I'll Cover You
by Mrs. Dapper
Summary: Kurt Hummel can't believe his luck when he's sentenced to community service in a hospice after getting caught for theft. He expects it to be smooth sailing until he meets Blaine, a patient diagnosed with leukemia. Badboy!Kurt, Klaine, AU.
1. Chapter 1

**I'll Cover You. **

_Live in my house_

_I'll be your shelter_

_Just pay me back_

_with one thousand kisses_

_Be my lover_

_and I'll cover you_

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><p><strong>Chapter 1.<strong>

Kurt Hummel can't contain the rather foul words escaping his lips at the moment.

Honestly, he can't control loads of things at the moment- one being the fact that he's smoking his second cigarette of the day, while the other being that he can't help but sneer at the passerby's that give him a second glance. He knows what they're thinking of course; he's gotten those looks many times before. Lima was a small town, and people knew him well before the whole façade he has had developed. _They should have gotten used to it by now, _he thinks as he throws his cigarette onto the ground and stomps on it.

On a day like this, he would have been doing plenty of other things besides being alone in the cold January air. He would have been with his pals, rolling his eyes while they made out with girls they'd only known for a good few minutes. He could have been working with his father at the shop, probably snapping at a customer for requesting for help from a '_real adult' _instead of a seventeen-year-old boy. But no, he's not doing either; instead he's making his way to what Noah Puckerman refers to as 'the shit-for-brains excuse of a place for not having a life', or what most people would call a hospice.

Technically, it's Puck's fault that Kurt's in the situation that he's in right now. Not only him, of course, it was the others as well. Finn most notably, seeing as he was too busy cheating on Quinn Fabray with Rachel Berry to notice the shop keeper walk back in. Kurt adjusts his leather jacket and shrugs as a stone cold building comes into view.

It's been around for a while, the hospice. Fifty years, if Kurt remembers correctly. It's quite obvious judging by the fading paint. It's not big, yet it's not entirely that small either. From what he can see, the building only has two floors. _'Well of course it's small, only people with crappy lives waste away here.'_

He walks through the front glass doors and is hit by a cold air that rivals the temperature outside, mentally cursing the place for turning the temperature to what Kurt feels as somewhere around negative six degrees Celsius. He's soon greeted by an elderly woman, her smile immediately causing him to relax slightly and drop his piercing glare.

"I take it you're our new volunteer, Kurt Hummel?'

"Yeah, that's me."

Kurt does belong to what most would label as _'the bad boy group'_ or whatever, but he still holds onto certain principles, one of them being to always show respect to the elderly. Of course, he doesn't bow down and kiss their feet like most of the suck-ups in his school, but he definitely shows a little bit of respect. Unlike his friends, Kurt is close to his father Burt Hummel, a gruff man who never seems to take off his baseball cap and stands up for what's right. The death of Kurt's mother two years ago has definitely brought them closer, and the addition of Finn and Carole Hudson has changed Kurt in ways he never thought possible.

One of them being that he's a completely different character compared to what might have been a year ago.

"So what do you need me to do?"

"Well," she smiles, "you could tend to some of the patients for starts."

Kurt rolls his eyes, "Oh wow, I did _not_ expect that. Seriously, do you need me to like, get anyone anything or whatever? I really just wanna get this day over with."

The woman gives a small chuckle, "You know Kurt, you're very different from the last time I've seen you. Yes, I've met you before," she says at Kurt's bewildered expression, "I was the nurse who tended to your mother when she was moved here."

_Of course, _Kurt thinks, _how did I forget that she stayed here before she died? _ Kurt shakes it off, coming to the conclusion that he does not remember because he had chosen to forget that period of time.

"As for things that you should know, you will be assigned to tend to certain patients at certain times, but other than that, as long as you're helping someone, you're fine. Things you should know about the patients though, is to stay clear of Linda Hartman on Tuesdays. She goes through horribly dramatic phases when she watches her favorite soaps, it can be rather alarming at times. Another is to make sure that the canteen is always clean, the patients hate it when it isn't," she says, folding her arms, "I'm sure that's all you need to know for now."

"Alright, thanks, I'll try and remember that _shit-load _amount of information."

She laughs and shakes her head, "Another thing. Try and not get too close to anyone here, most don't have long while the others are all lost causes. Keep a distance, it's easier that way." Kurt restrains a guffaw and rolls his eyes, "Trust me, that won't be a problem." _It's not like there's anyone that'll interest me in a shitty place like this._

"Oh!" the woman checks the planner she holds in her hand, "You might be of some use! There's a patient in Room 342 who needs to go for his daily treatment. Chemotherapy, you know? He's such a kind young man…" Kurt raises an eyebrow. He hasn't got a clue on what she's blabbering on about, so he decides to nod to make it look like he understands.

"Great. I'll go do that. What's your name? For future reference and whatever."

"It's Harley. I'll check on you later, Kurt."

She turns a corner and she's out of Kurt's view, so he walks down the corridor as he counts the numbers on the plaques nailed onto each room.

_Room 312, Room 313, Room 314-_

He gives a small jump when he hears his phone ringing loudly. Begrudgingly, he whips it out and glares at the caller ID, gritting his teeth hard as he answers.

"What the _fuck, _Finn Hudson! _Do you have any idea on where I am?_"

"Whoa, you're even more pissed than I expected," comes the voice of his step-brother, "look, I called to say that me and the guys are really sorry, it's just-"

"It's your damn fault that I'm in this mess! If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even be here right now."

"I tried my best, dude! I was too busy-"

"Sticking your tongue down Berry's throat? You better pray I don't enlighten one Quinn Fabray on you and your womanizing ways-"

"Don't tell Quinn! She's beautiful and I really love her-"

"Love her so much that you fuck any female you make eye contact with?"

"Hey, if you actually try going out there and get laid you'd understand my problem."

Kurt feels himself blushing to the roots of his hair, "That, is none of your business. Anyways, I gotta go tend to some sad asshole. I'll see you back home."

"Alright! Love you!"

"Don't make me punch you, Hudson."

"Aw, say you love me too!"

"You would've cried if I'd told you that a year ago."

"Well yeah, that was back when you had that batshit crazy crush on me-"

"Oh, fuck off, Finn!" he hisses, ignoring the startled glance of a nurse passing by.

"I'll see you at home Kurt." Finn laughs as he hangs up.

"I swear, the things I'd give to punch his face in…" Kurt stops when he reaches room 342. He lets out a sigh as he imagines the male inside. _Probably some guy shoved in here by his daughter. _He pushes the door open and enters, his eyes immediately searching for the patient.

He does not, however, expect the patient to be a young man with hair of the darkest shade and the kindest set of hazel eyes that he's ever seen.

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><p><strong>Phew! First chapter done! So yes, this is AU, and yes, Kurt is a bad boy. Well, at least that's what I hope he came out as. Something you should know about Kurt here though is that he's not a flirt. Or a rapist. Or a pervert. I don't know. Oh gosh, I'm gonna stop rambling now. Please review and tell me what you think!<strong>

**R&R!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh gosh, you guys, the amount of alerts I have gotten for this is amazing. If I could, I'd hug each and every one of you. Virtually. This chapter has a LOT of talking. I hope you like talking, because I certainly enjoyed writing it.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2.<strong>

The first words that come to Kurt's mind when he lays eyes on the other male is _Hot__. Freakin'. Damn._

He's slightly shorter than Kurt, which comes as a shock seeing as he's the shortest amongst his friends. The male is dressed in maroon jeans and is wearing a tight black polo with a blue cardigan on top- much to Kurt's dismay. His hair is jet black, and it's gelled slick. Kurt knows that if it were not, the male has short, curly locks and _oh God, what I'd give to run my fingers through them-_

"I take it that you're a new worker?"

Kurt wants to mentally kick himself upon realizing that he just eye-fucked a stranger. He regains his cool and collected gaze and shrugs, "Yeah. Sadly."

The other male smiles, "My name's Blaine Anderson. It's nice to meet you… um, name?"

The taller of the two contemplates the situation, his eyebrow raised. After a moment, he shrugs his shoulders and looks away.

"Kurt Hummel."

"Hey, we're making progress!"

"Fuck you," Kurt shoves past him and sits onto the hospital bed.

"A potty mouth! Why am I not surprised! I take it you're here for 'community service'? Judging by the leather jacket and the fact that you're shamelessly lighting a cigarette like it's nobody's business tells me that you hang out with the wrong crowd."

"It's none of your damn business," Kurt says, ignoring Blaine's raised eyebrow as he inhales the nicotine, "but yes, I'm here for community service."

"What did you do?"

"Eager, aren't we?" Kurt smirks, removing the cigarette from his lips and examining the other boy from head to toe. "I'll tell you in good time, Mister Dapper. How 'bout you? What's your reason for being in a hellhole like this? Are you some loose canon or somethin'?"

The boy who goes by Blaine lets out a harsh laugh, "That would've been a better thing to suffer from. No, I'm not. I-I uh," he looks at his shoes and mutters, Kurt not catching the slightest idea of what he said.

"A bit louder, I don't have sonic hearing."

"Leukemia."

Kurt's eyes widen as Blaine looks back up at him, his cheeks are slightly flushed, "I have leukemia." He rubs the back of his neck and falls into an armchair at the corner of the room, his eyes searching Kurt's face for a reaction. The boy sitting on the bed is at a loss of words. After a moment of awkward silence, Kurt gives a small cough.

"Oh, really? Is it... Is it curable?"

"No."

"Oh.

The air in the room changes, and for the first time in what has been a while, Kurt wants to squirm. He has never been acquainted with a person diagnosed with a deadly disease, nor had he expected to meet one in his teenage years. He runs a hand through his hair.

"So... Are you... You know, going to-"

"To die?" Blaine chuckles, and Kurt wonders if there's a hint of melancholy in it, "I'm praying I don't, but according to the doctors, I've got a good eight months left. Irritating, isn't it, knowing that your life's pretty much turned to an hour glass?"

He fiddles with the laces of his shoes, and Kurt suddenly finds everything that Blaine does much more nerve wrecking, "Are you scared?"

"Of dying?"

"No shit, Sherlock."

Despite the tense change of atmosphere their conversation had taken a moment ago, Blaine lets out a laugh, "Oh good, you're back to your snappy self. Well..." he looks out the window and bites his lip, evidently deep in thought. Kurt realizes that he's hanging onto every word the other boy says. He relaxes his shoulders and leans back in an attempt to look less interested than he actually is. After a moment, Blaine answers.

"No, I'm not. Not really."

"Why's that?"

"Eager, aren't we?" teases Blaine, his grin growing wider when Kurt rolls his eyes.

"Well, if you really must know... It's just- It's-" he gives an abashed smile as he covers his face with his hands, "when you've got nothing to live for, nothing to look forward to when you wake up in the morning, life's a little easier to let go of."

"You've got nothing to live for?"

"I'll tell you in good time, Mr. Badboy. I'm not gonna tell my whole life story to someone who I've only known for a good few minutes." he stands up and strolls towards the window, looking back at Kurt when he casually leans against it.

"So what are you here for?"

"I thought I told you it's none of your damn freaking busine-"

"I meant why were you sent here to me."

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I've got to bring you for some chromatography session or shit-"

"Chemotherapy, Hummel," Blaine smiles, "chromatography's a method used for the separation of mixtures. I highly doubt that that's something that will help with my condition."

"I hardly attend my classes, Anderson, and when I do, I honestly don't give a flying fuck. All memory of education has flown outta my mind from all the smoking and drugs."

"You're an inspiration for children everywhere. Well come on now, get up! We gotta go for my treatment."

"Exactly **_why_** do I have to accompany you? You seem perfectly capable of handling yourself." Kurt states lamely, letting out a yawn.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to," Shrugs Blaine, "but the last time I walked there alone, I got dizzy and passed out. Nurses found me after half an hour. I mean, I'm just saying. Just gonna lay that out there." He raises his triangular shaped eyebrows.

Kurt lets out a groan and stands up, "God, you're such a pain in the ass. Come on, let's get going." he feels his lips twitch at the look of victory evident on Blaine's face. Like a fucking puppy, I swear, thinks Kurt as he walks out the room.

Blaine trots to his side, patting his gelled hair. Kurt scrunches his nose,

"I don't get it, what's with the hair?"

"What's wrong with my hair?

"It's all gelled."

"I don't see what the problem is."

"Well it's the way you gel it, dumbass. Most guys only use gel to spike their hair up or something but the way you do it..."

"You're not used to seeing someone look so dapper, I take it." Blaine smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets, "Well, I used to go to a school called Dalton Academy. Heard of it?"

Kurt shakes his head and grunts, "Do I look like the kind of person who spends their time checking out other schools?"

"Well no, but anyways, Dalton was an extremely prestigious school. They expected a lot from you, so being presentable was something that the teachers liked seeing in a student."

"So you're basically putting on a show?"

"Yeah, much like what you're doing right now."

"_Excuse me_?" Kurt narrows his eyes, stopping in his tracks. Blaine turns to him and scratches his neck.

"Yes?"

"What the_ fuck_ do you mean by that, Anderson?"

"Nothing, it's just that-" Blaine stops when he sees the anger evident on Kurt's face, "You know what? Forget I said anything."

"No! Listen here, you prick, what exactly do you mean by that?"

"I would tell you, but from the look you're giving, you'll probaby castrate me."

"Please, I'll have too much trouble trying to find something down there to be able to do so, now tell me what the fuck you meant by what you said!" snaps Kurt, his hands balling into fists.

"As offended as I am about the insult you just threw at me-"

"That does not pertain to my question!"

"Alright! What I meant... Is that this-" he gestures to Kurt's leather jacket and the cigarette hanging in his mouth, "-is not the real Kurt Hummel. This is all a get-up. From what I can see, you hate this. The leather jacket's just something you can hide behind. I think... that this isn't what you want to be. The cigarettes are probably not even your thing."

"Don't act like you fucking know me, alright? Because you don't." Kurt fumes, pressing his index finger hard against Blaine's chest.

"You know what?" Blaine says, "You're right. Let's start over since you're stuck here for- for how long, exactly?"

Kurt runs a hand through his hair, "Six... Six months."

"Six months, right. You might as well know someone here; it'll be horrible if you don't. So, I'm Blaine Anderson." the shorter of the two sticks out a hand, waiting for Kurt to shake his. The latter scrutinizes him; he raises a hand and slowly shakes Blaine's.

"Kurt Hummel."

"It's great to make your acquaintance, Kurt. Do you mind if I call you that instead of Hummel?"

"You're freaking insane, you know that?"

"Well I've been told that it's one of my most interesting attributes," Blaine laughs, casting Kurt a sideway glance.

"But yeah, what the hell? Call me Kurt, I guess."

"Great! So, it's a short walk, but we might as well use the time we have to get to know each other?"

"Conversation's not really my thing, but since you're dying and all, I'll make an exception."

"What a way to beat around the bush," mutters Blaine, "well alright. How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Ah, so you're turning eighteen this year?" Kurt shrugs his shoulders and nods. Blaine let's out a low whistle and continues, "Any plan on where you wanna go for college?" He turns as Kurt let's out a shout of laughter, "Anderson, do I look like the kind of person who gives a shit about college?" Blaine shakes his head and smiles, no, of course Kurt doesn't. If the leather jacket and cigarette isn't a big enough give away, the I-do-not-give-a-shit-about-the-world look on his face definitely is.

"How 'bout you?" Kurt asks. He usually isn't one to bother about other people, but he decides to humor Blaine, seeing as he probably doesn't have anyone to talk to in a place like a hospice.

"Me? Well, I'm not very interesting if it weren't for my condition. I'm sixteen. If I could, I would've liked to go to Harvard or Oxford, make my parents proud, you know?"

"Are you close to your parents?"

"Um... No, not really."

"Why's that?"

"Well, my dad hates my guts, for starters," Blaine subconsciously rubs his elbow, "and my mum doesn't like to acknowledge my presence."

"Oh." Kurt decides not to ask anything further, coming to the conclusion that Blaine's family is a touchy topic.

"I'm not sure if I'm right, but what's your relationship with your parents?"

"Oh, well I loved my mum-"

"Loved?"

"She died two years ago."

"Oh. Oh my God- Kurt I'm so sorry-"

"Forget it," Kurt sighs, "I've gotten over it. She was beautiful, though. My dad... Is probably the only thing I live for in this shitty world."

"Oh. So I was wrong."

"Wrong about what?"

"Nothing, I just expected you to be the type who's not close to your parents."

"That's fucking prejudice."

"Well hey! I'm sorry if you look like the kind of person who doesn't. What does your dad… think of your whole, um, lifestyle?"

Kurt shrugs his shoulders, "Well, at first he thought it was just a little phase that I was going through after my mum died, but… well. He's disappointed in me, yeah, but I honestly couldn't care less." _A lie I try to tell myself everyday, though._

"Any siblings?"

"Stepbrother."

"Ah, you two get along?"

Blaine raises an eyebrow as Kurt growls; "I would give anything in the world to rip his man boobs off at the moment, but other than that, I can stand him."

They come to a stop in front of what looks to Kurt as a small office; curtains are drawn over the window and Kurt jumps back when the door opens. A middle-aged woman steps out, a clipboard held in one hand. She smiles as she spots Blaine and she greets him. Kurt begins to take in her features; she's extremely tall, maybe an inch shorter than him. Her hazel brown hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, and her black horn rimmed glasses is perched on the bridge of her sharp nose. She turns to Kurt and examines him from head to toe. Kurt, who has always been extremely shy around older women staring at him, gives a small cough and walks towards the nearest water cooler. Behind him he hears a conversation carrying between the woman and Blaine.

"A friend?"

"Nope, he's a new volunteer, if you know what I mean."

She gives an audible sigh and says, "Well come on in, might as well get this session over with."

Kurt turns and leans against the wall, "I'll be waiting here. Like a good boy." Blaine shakes his head, "No, it's okay. You can leave, I'll be fine."

"But don't you need someone to escort you back to your room? It'll be my ass if someone finds you facedown on the ground-"

"Kurt, I'll be fine, seriously."

"But you said-"

"I lied, Hummel. Who knew a bad boy could be so easy to fool?"

"W-what?" Kurt yells, standing upright, "The fuck you do that for?"

Blaine shrugs and walks into the office, leaving Kurt standing alone with the woman. She turns to him and gives a sly grin as she whispers, "What he means is that he likes you and I think you have a great ass." She closes the door, and Kurt is left spluttering alone in the hallway.

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><p>The rest of the day passes with ease, none of the other patients are as complicated as one Blaine Anderson, but they're definitely not as interesting. He spends the rest of the day tending to seniors, and even gets into a fight with a fellow co-worker after he hears her giving a snarky comment on Kurt's smoking. He returns home in the evening, and as soon as he does so, he collapses onto the sofa, Finn smiling beside him.<p>

"So how was your day?"

"You fucking owe me, Hudson."

"Language." Comes the gruff voice of his father as he enters the room with a beer can in one hand.

"It's his fault I got into this mess! If he was actually doing his job instead of-"

"Well you shouldn't have been doing what you were doing in the first place," Burt counters, and Kurt stops a retort coming out from his mouth. His father has a point.

"Dinner's ready!" Carole calls, and the three males approach the dining table.

As soon as they sit down to eat, Finn already has a knife stab into a drumstick on his plate, "But seriously, how did your day go?"

Kurt groans and cuts the flesh off of the chicken, "Horrible. Like I said, you owe me Hudson. I got into a fight with some worker over my smo-" he stops when he feels his Burt's eyes on him, "well, whatever. The seniors smelled, and half of the patients there are like mindless zombies."

"Did you make any friends?" Carole asks, sipping a glass of water.

"Carole, it's a hospice. No one there was the _least_ bit interesting. The only one who I could actually hold a conversation with was the first patient I was assigned to."

"And who's that?"

"A patient called Blaine."

"Oh, what's wrong with him?"

"Leukemia."

The table goes quiet, and Kurt decides to ignore this, "He says he's got about eight months left. Sucks, I guess. He's about a year younger than me."

Carole swallows loudly and Finn stuffs another drumstick into his mouth. "Well, that shows that not everyone out there's lucky, so you gotta be thankful for what you have and not throw it away." Burt says, and Kurt restrains himself from rolling his eyes. Carole gives a small nod in agreement.

"So, do you have a crush on him?"

Kurt wants to jump out of the nearest window as Burt loudly chokes on his water and Finn gags on his drumstick.

"No Carole, I don't think falling for someone who's about to die is a smart thing to do."

His stepmother nods and gives a sad smile, "You're absolutely right… so are you going back there tomorrow?"

Kurt sighs and plays with the salad on his plate, "Don't have much of a choice now do I? I'll have to go right after school." He leaves out the fact that he doesn't attend his classes to his family, and instead hangs out with his friends under the bleachers smoking whatever the hell Puck's stolen from his dad's basement.

"Well this hospice thing is a good idea, maybe it'll teach you that not everyone's as lucky as you." Burt states, his eyes boring into Kurt's skull.

_Yeah, like that'll happen. _Kurt thinks as he brings his glass of water to his lips.

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><p><strong>Second chapter done! It's not as good as I hoped it to be… I'm really sorry! I'm sick right now, and ugh, it sucks. Soo, what do you think of Kurt and Blaine's interactions? Please tell me! I'd really appreciate it!<strong>


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